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This story celebrates the joy of sex as it is experienced by a bisexual man who likes to wear tall boots and leather breeches when he fucks. The protagonist is a pansexual version of a Tom of Finland hero. The aim of the story is to make you cum (hopefully!) and to promote the wearing of leather uniforms by bisexual and heterosexual men. For a better world!
It was close to 8pm, time to head down to the Recreation Building. The place opens at the same time every day but I hate to be late for my daily portion of fun. I live for these hours of sexual release. I checked my leathers in the mirror, the uniform I had been wearing all day on my motorcycle, patrolling the area with my cop colleagues. I couldn’t help to be impressed by the image of the supersexual leatherman in the mirror. I squeezed my nipples through my leather shirt and slapped my dick a couple of times, gently left and right, until I had a nice bulge in my leather crotch. I straightened my tie, put on my leather Muir cap and left the room.
The Recreation Building was just across the yard from the housing units. To the left were the dorms where the young recruits were housed; on the right were the family units, most of which were empty. I you didn’t mind having you wife and daughter fucked by gangs of horny cops twice a week, you could consider bringing them to live in this compound. Most of the married cops did mind and lived somewhere else. Most of them loved seeing their wives getting caught up in a gangbang once in a while, but they preferred to keep some sort of control over it.
From the dorms on the left some young guys in their brand-new leathers were heading in the direction of the Recreation Area. They looked great and their excitement was catching but I knew from experience that their performance was likely to be disappointing. Plenty of urge but not enough stamina. They simply lacked the experience. I got quite a few looks from them though, which pleased me.
I headed towards the back of the building, the “men only” entrance. There was no strict separation between heterosexuals and homosexuals in the compound, and neither was there in the Recreation Building. In fact, the back bar had exactly the same dimensions as the front bar. Whereas in the rest of society, as they say, heterosexuals make up 90% of the population, it was more like 70% in this particular station. Moreover, of those 70% many were “switches”, with 10 to 20% openly bisexual. These circumstances caused the back bar generally to be the busier one. I am sure it’s the leather that brings men together here.
To be honest, I’m not too sure where I stand myself. I go both ways, as long as there is fucking in leather involved. If I have the choice, I prefer to hang out with bisexual leather fuckers; the sort of men that while pumping dick into their girlfriends, have their eyes fixed on other leather fuckers around them. I must admit that whenever I fuck a woman it usually is for that reason…
The plan for tonight was to try the front bar later in the evening. Hopefully I would be able to team up with a horny bisexual leather buddy, find us a couple of girls and pump up a few loads alongside each other. That was for later. For now, I needed to visit the back bar because I simply needed to cum. Things were just so much easier in the back room. I wanted to go in there, sniff another man’s leathers, feel a tongue on my boots and breeches, have a wank and shoot a couple of loads, before I could go and face the challenges of the front bar.
It was exactly 8 o’clock when I arrived at the back door. There were eight men waiting outside, and I was very much aware of the fact that their eyes were on me. Good, I could still turn a few heads then. I heard the key turning in the lock and the door swung open. The place looked as it always had: dimly lit, a large bar at the far end, the rest of the room divided by vertical steel bars into sections for various types of depravities. Some of the ‘entertainment areas’ were already manned by volunteers who had taken their position there, eagerly awaiting the sex-hungry men that were going to use their services. Rumours had it that some of the ‘volunteers’ that looked a bit apprehensive had been brought up from the prison cells with some force. It was considered as part of their ‘doing time’ in jail. I suppose they should count themselves lucky to do penance in such an enjoyable way, even though some were perhaps treated more roughly by some of the cops, and most of them returned to the prison block with very sore arses.
I skipped the bar and headed straight for what I call the lazy option: the jerk-off corner. As usual, this facility was run by the same master-slave couple that had been doing this for years. The master was probably in his early sixties but looking great for his age. The slave was definitely younger but wore a full face mask, so hard to tell. Anyway, I didn’t care what their age was, or what they looked like; they were good bahis firmaları at what they did and that was all that mattered. The older man was leaning against the wall and the slave was kneeling down in front of him. I gave the master a friendly nodd and placed myself between the two of them, my bum touching his crotch.
They both knew the routine. They had served me previously and they were keen to keep me as a customer. For the time being this meant that they did nothing and waited for me. The slave watched me as I opened the zip of my breeches and pulled out my beautiful cock and balls encased in leather cockrings and ball stretchers. Teasingly, I pushed my leather bum against the master’s hard-on for no other reason than that it felt good. He knew of course that he would not get that arse; nobody did. As I massaged my tool, it grew to full length and maximum girth and started dripping precum. The slave who was not allowed to touch me caught some of it, which was an achievement since he wasn’t able to see much through the narrow slits in his hood.
When I moved my left hand toward my breast in order to pull a nipple out, the master understood the sign and came into action. He remembered that in order to get to my tits, he did not have to open my shirt. All he had to do was lift the flaps of my breast pockets and my nipples were exposed, ready to be played with. I had made it a custom long time ago to pull my nipples through a slit in the leather of my shirt pockets and put tit clamps on them before leaving the house. I loved the sight of my fitted black leather shirt worn with a perfectly straight black leather tie and a perfectly diagonal leather strap going across my left shoulder, and I did not want that to be disturbed by some idiot ripping my shirt open.
The leather master pulled my nipples and gently increased the force. The touch of his leather gloved hands and the strain on my nipples had an immediate effect on the flow of precum. I smacked the slave’s leathered head, and he eagerly applied his tongue to my dripping dick, slurping up the delicious sex juice. I always prefer to stay in charge how and when I cum, so I kept a firm grip of my dick, making it quite difficult for the slave to get to it. Jerking off with my right hand, I used my other hand to push him around, onto my shaved balls, looking majestic in their leather stretcher, glistering with saliva and precum, then up and down my shaft, and finally pushing my fat mushroom through the leather hole in his mask, which only just fitted.
When I was ready to cum, both knew they were not to interfere. The master kept pinching my niples but held his breath; the slave simply waited on his knees and watched my dick in great awe as I jerked off and spewed a big load of sperm into the air and onto his leathered head. The last drops I inserted straight into the leather hole, down the slave’s throat. This is a part I always enjoy. Mouth-fucking can be tedious but fucking a mouth after coming is always great, I love pushing my cock down a pervert’s throat, while it is leaking cum. I looked down at the slave boy and was struck by the beauty of my fat dick stuck in his leather head, my leather cockring and ball stretcher touching the edges of the leather mouth hole. I wanted to remain like that forever.
However, I had other fish to fry. I saluted the leather master and made my way to the bar area. The place had filled up nicely, there were around 70 men there. That would probably go up to 100 or so around 11pm, the average for a weekday. Most guys would leave around midnight (morning shifts started at 8am). I was usually one of ten or fifteen guys that were still there at 2am when the night shift arrived, straight from work and ready to shoot a couple of loads, which I was willing to help them with.
While I was waiting at the bar I noticed someone was feeling up my leather arse. I turned around and I looked into the blue-grey eyes of a handsome young man that I remembered fucking a couple of times. He was not a cop but a visitor that had been given a pass for the Recreation Area, because of “major service” to the force, whatever that meant. He gave me the most endearing smile and tried to kiss me but I wasn’t in the mood for him now. I wanted to stick to my original plan for the night: just some casual men sex in the back bar, and then on to the front bar for the main dish, preferably some rough sex that I could share with macho bisexual men like myself. This kid – cute as he was – was too much of a gay cock slut. I knew once I started fucking him I would be pumping load after load in his unsationable man cunt, he would wear me out within an hour and there would be very little else happening.
The boy wasn’t easily defeated though. I have to admit that I was giving him confusing messages. He licked his full lips, gave me another generous smile and I licked mine. At the same time he kept massaging my arse and my cock was stretching out in front of me. He looked down kaçak iddaa over my shoulder and saw my dick pointing straight up, its fat mushroom glinstering with precum that had leaked out of the gaping hole that seemed to smile at him. So, in a way it was quite understandeble that he didn’t take my no for an answer. Next thing I knew he had skipped the queue at the bar, crawled between my legs (he was an amazing athlete, this boy), made his way up in front of me and impaled himself on my erect penis. True, I hadn’t bothered to put it away, I guess you could call that vanity. I have a very desirable tool and I like people to admire it. So, my hard cock had been up for grabs and this guy grabbed it and made it his.
Of course, I hadn’t expected anything like this, who would? For an experienced fuckee like him it had been no effort at all to take the full length of my dick in one elegant movement. His man cunt was well-trained, more or less permantly sleaked up and always wide open. He was wearing leather chaps, so his hungry arse was fully exposed. My automatic response to this unsolicited assault was to pull out, but he saw that one coming and made just the right counter movement to keep himself happily impaled. I stood there flabbergasted for a few seconds. Then, the blond cuty turned his muscular upper body towards me, gave me a dirty smile and said: “Got you, fuck me!” He then tried to kiss me again.
That was the moment I got a grip on myself and decidedly put a quick end to this spectacle. Although not that quick and only after ramming my dick up his arse two times, with the all the force I had in me, and further up his rectum than I could remember having been. The kid yelped and tried to push me back but I had already pulled out. I leaned over him and whispered in his ear: “Just so you know what you’re missing out on tonight.” I went to the men’s room and washed my dick. When I came back to the bar he was gone.
With my drink I headed to a darker corner of the room, where the circle jerk-off took place. This was a place for real cock lovers and breeches fans. The jerk-off circle consisted of a number of workout benches that were positioned in a circle facing each other. It was only 8:45pm but every bench at this time was occupied. I recognized the usual crowd; some of them had been waiting at the entrance when I arrived. Most had adjusted the back lean of the bench at a comfortable 45 degree angle and were stroking their dicks at leisure. The idea was that true leather breeches fans could jerk off here, while constantly being stimulated by the sight of other cocks in breeches, both in the circle and in the crowd standing around. How a pair of leather breeches, especially when worn with tall boots, can make a man’s cock harder than anything else, is a thing that cannot be explained and has to be experienced.
That this simple idea worked surprisingly well was proven by the sound of one man after the other reaching a climax. The annoying thing of the breeches jerk-off circle was that most of the men kept their seats after having climaxed. It was as if releasing their seed made them horny to work up another load. They just kept stroking their dicks, touching the leather of their breeches, staring at the other cocks in breeches across the circle, and taking their time to beat up a fresh load. If someone finally left, there was a scuffle for the available seat.
I did find this corner very stimulating, no matter whether I had a seat or not. Just standing around, sniffing up the very masculine odour of leather, sweat and cum, listening to the groaning and cumming around me, beating off and cumming at the sight of so many cocks in leather, just a bit of innocent fun!
This time I felt more action was required. I checked the guys in the circle and I picked a black man at the far end, a body builder whom I vaguely knew. We must have shared each other’s cum at one occasion or the other. The guy wore a pair of perfectly cut Langlitz breeches, thick shiny leather with double white stripes on the side, inside a pair of heavy Wesco boots. The breeches must have been new because the smell was overwhelming. I suspected them being leather-lined. A pervert like me, who only wears leather-lined breeches, can tell. A leather shoulder strap went over his bare chest. Huge nipples crowned his hairy pecks, perfect pencil eraser-like tits, that stood erect like little penises. He was stroking his medium-sized cock, which somehow looked endearing on such an oversized muscle man.
I had clearly picked the right guy because he was eying me up from across the circle. I went over to him, straight across, knowingly breaking what must have been an unwritten rule: do not step into the circle. One guy tried to shew me away, which only made me stop right in the middle of the circle, where a spotlight shone down on me. Everyone in and around the circle got an excellent view of my commanding cop stature, as well as my award-winning cock that was pushing hard kaçak bahis against the leather flaps of my open fly. I knew I looked good in my commanding police leathers, my heavy-duty horse hide jacket with heavy utility belt, my big, bulgy and well-greased breeches, rising up from my size 46 knee-high boots, my tight leather gloves, my handsome face half hidden under the brim of a sinistrous Muir cap. I made sure the light fell exactly on my hard pole and swollen balls, everything tightly packed in heavy leather straps (made heavier by lead kerns sown into them – creating a constant pull). I felt great, slapped my leather breeches, slapped my cock and balls, looked around the circle and made a slurping sound, just to remind some why they were here. Who would want to resist something like this? Then I walked up to the guy I had picked earlier.
The body builder was waiting for me, saliva drooling from the corners of his mouth. I went straight for his big rubbery nipples. While I experimented with the force I needed to apply to this fucker’s mega tits, I kept his dick under control by placing my heavy cop boot on top of it, rolling it around with my profiled sole. The rough threatment made him happy. I continued and made him even happier by steadying myself over his chest, legs wide apart, grabbing his more than an inch long nipples at the base and pressing them hard against my leather breeches. It’s a technique I’ve been using on men and women since I was 17 years old when I got my first pair of breeches. Tits being rubbed against leather breeches. I’m always surprised when people are unaware of this simple sexual stimulant. The black man yelped. I could tell it wasn’t the first time he experienced the sensation.
My dick was leaking heavily, so I pushed his head in the direction of my crotch. He lapped up the precum on my breeches and closed his lips around my fat dickhead. I pulled back because I didn’t want to come so soon. I pushed him back and repeated the technique with the nipples, this time much rougher. I dragged his nipples all over my breeches, up and down, left and right, over the smooth leather and over seams and zips. It made him gasp for breath. My boot sole was needed to press down his dick with great force in order for this tit-pig not to cum.
I was so pleased with this man that I decided to give him the full benefit of my breeches. I lowered the back lean of the workout bench and positioned myself above his face, squeezing his head tightly between my leather thighs. The guy knew what he was in for. He took a deep breath while I lowered my leathered arse onto his face. When I sat down comfortably, he touched his dick and fired off a huge load of cum which hit me in several places. Some people get upset about their leathers getting splattered over; I love it and always take it as a compliment. I do insist that people clean up their own mess though, so I got up to give him the chance to do so. He did it without hesitation, as someone who knows what the natural order of things is.
I wasn’t gonna let him off after cumming so soon, so I sat down once again on his face. I love face-sitting! The feeling of a warm head — preferably a shaved head like this one — being crushed by my cold leathered arse, the wriggling in order to avoid a broken nose or a dislodged jaw, the struggle against suffocation, and at the same time the desperate attempt to lick the leather, the desire to breathe in more leather arse. Using someone’s face as my saddle felt natural to me. It made me feel good and fullfilled as a man. I knew I could have stayed in my seat for hours but I also wanted to cum.
I had to remind myself once in a while to lift up my arse slightly to give the bodybuilder underneath some air. At this point my saddle man discovered a little secret of mine: the breeches that had been crushing him for the last ten minutes or so were fitted out with a full zip. It is my little secret and I’ve made sure with my taylor that only those that are looking for it — or in this case: have been forced to breathe it in — will notice. And now he had noticed. He somehow managed to communicate to me that he wanted something. I slightly lifted one of my arse cheeks, and he managed to gasp: “Open, please!” All right, I thought, I’m not forcing anyone but if this is what you want, here it is. I lifted up my arse, pulled the zip of my fly further down into my crotch, then reached from behind and pulled it all the way round. It took only two seconds and few guys had even noticed. I sat down and let things develop from there.
The rim I was given was top-notch. The strong suck of his lips, which I had felt even through the double layer of leather, was now applied to my arse. I think I was moaning at this point. The delicious arse suck was followed by a tongue bath. What a strong, muscular tongue this guy had! It managed to slightly open up my usually very tight sphincter and work its way up my anus. A great way to get fucked. I now desperately needed to cum, was looking for a way to get the control back over my own dick but was roughly pulled back by someone. I very briefly caught a glimpse of what I thought was a very handsome face but it all became a bit of a blur.
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